


My Fondest Wound

by sapphose



Series: Sisters of Sparta [3]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Death, Dialogue-Only, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphose/pseuds/sapphose
Summary: At the end of her life, Helen sees a vision of long-dead Clytemnestra, giving the two sisters a last chance to try and understand each other. Dialogue-only.
Relationships: Clytemnestra & Helen of Troy (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Series: Sisters of Sparta [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864660
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	My Fondest Wound

“Helen.”

“Clytemnestra… You’re dead.”

“You aren’t.”

“Ironic, isn’t it? That I’m the only one to grow old. You’re beautiful, Clytemnestra.”

“Is that the only thing that matters to you?”

“Why not? The world seems to hinge on it.”

“I suppose you think Menelaus should have killed you while you were still young.”

“Menelaus should have left me alone. Are you here to kill me?”

“Like you said, I’m already dead.”

“Perhaps. I sometimes like to imagine you’re not. When we first heard that Castor and Pollux had been killed, I couldn’t bear it. I pretended that Zeus had whisked them away at the last minute, to live on Olympus forever. That he wouldn’t let his brave, clever, loving sons die for nothing. When I heard about Iphigenia, I did the same thing. I decided that Artemis took her, to be a priestess, and watch over other young girls. I tried to imagine the same thing for myself, you know. That Hera hid me away in Egypt, and it wasn’t actually me who had started this whole war. I never could make myself believe that one.”

“Does that mean you regret it?”

“I’m old. I’m allowed some regrets.”

“You could apologize.”

“To a ghost? Would it mean anything? Very well. I apologize.”

“That isn’t enough.”

“No, I thought it wouldn’t be.”

“You killed me.”

“Yes.”

“My children, too. My beautiful Iphigenia. My little Orestes. And my husbands. My brave Agamemnon. Aegisthus, who was there for me when no one else was.”

“You never married him.”

“No. I lived for years without a husband instead.”

“It was you who killed Agamemnon, Clytemnestra. Not me.”

“He died when he sacrificed Iphigenia. It may have been my husband’s body that returned from Troy, but not his soul.”

“Did you wish I had died instead?”

“Every day.”

“I am sorry. You didn’t deserve that. No one deserved what I did. If it changes anything, I didn’t think Menelaus would enact the oath.”

“It doesn’t. You made your choice, Helen, and you’re the only one who survived to live with the consequences.”

“Do you think it hurts more to believe that the gods did this on purpose, or that they don’t care at all?”

“I’m not interested in the gods. I’m talking to you.”

“You’re dead. You know what happens. What comes next.”

“I won’t tell you.”

“I suppose I should have expected that. I’m sorry, Clytemnestra. I’d change it if I could.”

“You can’t.”

“No. No one can. Were you happy with Agamemnon? Before the war.”

“Yes. Very happy. That was what made everything after so much worse, because I knew the taste of paradise. I knew I’d never have it again.”

“I try to remember the last time I was happy. I thought it might have been my wedding, but I don’t think I was happy, only relieved that all the other suitors were out of our house. I wasn’t even truly happy when Menelaus wrote me. It was an easy escape from making the choice. I don’t think I’ve been happy since I turned thirteen. Maybe earlier than that.”

“Is that supposed to excuse what you’ve done?”

“No. Only provide a context for it. That’s what I’ve been doing of late. Trying to put it all in context, to make sense of my life. If I’m seeing you, I assume it means I’m about to die.”

“It might.”

“Then you can wait a moment longer. What do you want to say to me, Clytemnestra?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been lying here with my thoughts, writing you letters, imagining everything I would say to you. Talking to you about me, like I have my whole life. I thought we could try something different for once. I’m listening.”

“Aging suits you, Helen.”

“It was the only thing I could do.”

“I don’t forgive you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Sisterhood is a strange thing. You were a knife in my side, but I still mourned its loss. My fondest wound.”

“I love you too. Even though I did it wrong.”

“Cassandra told me about you, and what you were like in Troy. I met her, when Agamemnon brought her to our home.”

“It’s vile that he did, Clytemnestra. I’m sorry.”

“She knew she would die. She knew everything that would happen. She told me you would grow old and regret everything. I didn’t believe her.”

“She told me the same thing. I didn’t believe her either.”

“I hope she found peace.”

“Only the dead can.”

“Are you ready to go, Helen?”

“I suppose so. Not much to pack on a journey to the underworld. I’ve got a coin around here somewhere.”

“They’ll bury you with it.”

“That’s it then?”

“That’s it.”

“Will you do me one last favor?”

“What is it?”

“Will you hold me, for the last moment? You don’t have to forgive me. But I- I don’t want to die alone.”

“No one does. Here.”

“Thank you. It’s odd that this is how the story ends, isn’t it? The loss of life, the war and destruction, the endless fighting, the beauty and the divine parentage and the myth that I thought I was… and I die an old woman, at home in my bed. Well. At least you’re here with me. I’m glad for that. I’m ready now, Clytemnestra.”

“Take a deep breath. It’s almost time.”

"I love you, Clytemnestra. And I'm sorry."

"I know. If it helps you to hear it, Helen, I know."


End file.
